Staring
by Inexplicably Kyprioth
Summary: In the beginning, there was Al's Clean Air Act, which reduced Ed to mental bleeps and shortly corrupted the rest of the office. NOT ROYXAL! Really. It may look like it, but no. Bizarre Furbie page dividers!
1. Al's Crush

**Disclaimer: **If I owned FMA, Al would be very different than he is. Not so likable, I think. Rather a good thing I don't own FMA, I suppose. But still… Al is entitled to some vestige of… character. And he might get mad at his brother some times. Which would be painful for Ed, considering Al is entirely metal and Ed is only partially so.

Chapter 1 

Al burst in the door, picked his brother up, and swung him around in a circle. Ed was disconcerted. For one thing, Al didn't act like this. For another, he _certainly _didn't act like it when Ed was in one of the moods where he tried to be dark and brooding and stare out of windows. And _nobody _acted like this after a visit with Colonel Mustang, particularly after the annual you're-so-talented-why-aren't-you-a-State-Alchemist-like-your-brother nobody-cares-you're-a-giant-suit-of-armor speech. It was routine. Al listened and nodded and said he'd think about the exam and then went back and played Monopoly with his brother.

He _didn't _pick said brother up and swing him around with an enormous grin on his face.

"Brother, do you know why I am _so _glad you're a State Alchemist?"

"No-o-o…" Ed admitted carefully, having been unaware that Al was particularly pleased with this. That _anyone _was particularly pleased with it.

"I'm in love."

Ed gaped. The non sequitor was bad enough; that his _little brother _was in love? Impossible. Absolutely not possible. And Ed was starting to feel queasy. Al didn't appear to notice.

"Put me down?" He gasped after a moment, and wove over to the bed after Al did so. "What do those have to do with each other?" He added after his stomach was quite settled.

"Nii-san!" Al objected. Apparently he thought Ed could read his mind. Ed couldn't. Mind-reading was Al's job. Ed stared levelly at Al, an expression he had picked up from the Colonel; stare at them and eventually they'll elaborate.

"In love. With Colonel Mustang." Al elaborated, and Ed managed to fall off the bed from the very middle in a completely prostrate position.

"You will take me with you to the meeting tomorrow?" Al confirmed, helping Ed off the floor.

"Meeting? Tomorrow?"

"Yeah – the Colonel said he wanted to see you." Al got a dreamy look.

"Uh… yeah. Right."

(0.0) 

"Fullmetal, why is your brother here?" Colonel Mustang asked. His meetings with Edward were generally more private.

"If I'm going to be dealing with you, I need moral support, Colonel…" Ed remembered his brother's campaign against his language just in time. "Colonel Bad Word."

Roy was perfectly used to Ed's usual name for him, and usually let it slide. "You never – Colonel _what?_"

"Colonel. Bad. Word." Ed enunciated through his teeth, managing to exude Don't Ask very nicely.

_Right. _Roy thought, and managed to proceed. "You never needed moral support before." He commented.

"Prolonged exposure to you has that effect on anyone."

Roy mentioned his subordinates. Ed raised his eyebrows. Roy suddenly felt himself getting covetous. Ed was taking _all _his expressions.

"Point taken regarding my subordinates' sanity." Roy admitted. He felt odd. Ed was staring at him coolly, for one. And for another, there was a helmet, turned attentively towards him, and he knew, he just _knew_ that there was absolutely nothing inside, and _yet _someone was listening. And just staring at him. Just… staring…

"Regarding the purpose of this meeting…"

When did Ed start using big words? Roy complained to himself, but he managed to push these thoughts under the enormous baseball cap where all other irrelevant thoughts went, to return later when paperwork loomed, and get through the meeting. With both Elrics staring at him.

At least Ed looked _away _sometimes. At least Ed said things. At least Ed could be provoked into a rant as a change of pace…

_Colonel Bad-Word? _The baseball cap emitted. Roy hiccuped.


	2. The Beginnings of Blackmail

**Disclaimer: **If I owned FMA, strange things would happen with sins – villains in general, actually. Strange, strange things, possibly involving fondue. Yes, definitely involving fondue, with strawberries, pineapple, salted caramels, and cookie dough. In fact, the entire cast would probably attend a chocolate party… ooh… yumm… I don't own FMA, and anyone who does isn't invited to the chocolate party. They have to make their own.

Chapter 2 

"That was _wonderful_, Nii-san. Thank you." Al commented as they left the building. Ed needed a walk. Fresh air. Perhaps a hammer so that he could crack his skull open, deposit the idea safely inside, and sew it back up again.

"But all you did was stare at him. He didn't even talk to you once. We just argued." Ed protested.

"But we were both _there_." Al informed him, explaining that this was quite enough for now. "D'you think he'll call you back soon?"

"Probably not until I've assured him that you can_not _buy a philosopher's stone in the local coffee shop." Ed replied, feeling irritated with Roy.

"He's just being thorough. It's an admirable quality."

"You'd say _anything _Roy did was an admirable quality." Ed grumbled. "If he hopped on one foot. If he fell down the stairs. If he happened to glance past you at the book case…"

"Oh, Nii-san, do you think he would?" Al asked excitedly.

Not for the first nor anywhere near the last time, Ed wished he weren't a minor and people would let him take a long drink of alcohol.

Al continued to babble about Roy until a haunted Ed managed to find a kitten in a corner and shove it at him. Even then there were occasional comments about whether Roy liked cats, and if he would appreciate suddenly getting one, and if he'd ever had a pet before and would know what to do with one. Ed's wistful imaginary cache of alcohol started to look like a bar itself.

"Al," he said finally, "either shut up or go get Hughes to tell you about Elysia."

Faced with this prospect, Al became deathly silent, and Ed started to realize what Roy had felt at being constantly stared at by an empty, silent suit of armor.

(0.0) 

Riza Hawkeye had just enough time to poke her head in the door and say, "Edward Elric, sir," before he came storming in. Rather than take his usual seat on the couch, though, the little boy marched right up to Roy's desk and put his finger in the colonel's face.

"Don't you even _think _of hurting my brother." He growled. "Don't you _dare _do _anything _to make him unhappy, you hear me? Because if you do, what I will do to you will make the Leore incident look like a farce."

Roy stood up. Ed dropped his finger, rather than allow it to end up pointing at Roy's breastbone. "Fullmetal, I have no idea what you're talking about." He began. A speech had started forming in his mind, a very nice, almost polite one, except that Edward interrupted before he could start it.

"Good." He told his superior. "Good. Keep it that way – or if you can't, you'd better _darn _well not do _anything _to make Alphonse unhappy."

Before Roy could so much as agree, disagree, foist paperwork on him, or even so much as comment on Ed's use of 'darn,' Edward Elric had spun and stormed out of his office. Roy sank back into his chair, deeply confused. He had a few seconds to ponder the mystery before Riza stuck her head in again.

"Caelean Dyson, sir."

(0.0) 

There were two things Envy wanted. The first was a little brother, and he was working on that with Wrath. The second was gossip, and judging by the look on the face of the informant approaching him, there was some _good _scoop to be had. Envy turned to Wrath.

"This is called 'the beginnings of blackmail,' Wrath. It's how I get my hair stuff." Envy paused as the man got closer. "Or it could be something even juicier."

Wrath was sulking. He didn't like Envy's little teaching sessions. "Yeah, yeah. Do I get the stones now?"

"Listen." Envy instructed him.

"You said it would be just you!" The man objected as he came closer. Envy briefly considered arguing. Instead, he just threatened murder, informed him Wrath could be trusted, and went back to his throne to listen.

Blackmail didn't begin to describe it. Gossip didn't begin to describe it. Dirt on the Elrics came somewhere close to the middle of describing it.

_Alphonse Elric was in love with Roy Mustang._

Envy was speechless with delight. He almost handed the man a red stone instead of the coins Gluttony was always trying to eat. Where he'd gotten the idea they were chocolate Envy didn't know, and why he wanted them was also beyond Palm Tree Head. Gluttony never unwrapped anything, and he was always complaining about the taste of tin foil.

Envy dismissed the man and then started wriggling happily.

"Can I have my stones _now_?" Wrath asked.

"Oh, shut up." Envy replied.

(0.0) 

Ed felt stalked. For a while, he thought it might be Hughes, just because Hughes did that sort of thing. This thought was quickly dismissed. Hughes was subtle; if he or one of his people were stalking Ed, he wouldn't know. Actually, Hughes had probably been stalking him since he joined the military. His second guess was Roy; Colonel Bad Word had the motive, but this stalking was more subtle than that. Roy did not seem to be the subtle sort. Besides, his people weren't suited to stalking.

This bemused Ed for a while, before he realized that it was probably just the enemy, which made him very happy. The enemy was nothing to worry about. He almost dismissed the matter entirely, until he remembered that the enemy hadn't been stalking him before, though it should have.

The stalker also was unidentifiable; Ed only knew he existed because he felt eyes on him all the time. And the stalker was only around when Ed was with Al – which was all the time, even at his meetings with Roy anymore. In any case, after much pondering and a few dented walls, Ed's tired, alchemy-oriented brain managed to make a breakthrough that most, with Ed's experience, would have made right off. It was Envy.

Ed fell asleep.

In the morning, recalling that it was Envy, he went back to worrying. Why would Envy stalk him? They were at an impasse, one of those oh-so-irritating times when there was nothing to be done no matter how hard he tried. He used to use these times to brush up on his alchemy. Now he didn't need to anymore, and just got restless.

But why Envy? Nothing had changed.

Except...

_Why was Envy interested in Ed's brother's love life?_

Ed escorted Al into the nearest shop, told him to stay, and sneaked back outside. He soon identified Envy; the homunculi had no idea how humans behaved. Despite his shape shifting abilities, Envy was more suited to the work of the assassin than that of the stalker. Ed managed to blend in with the crowd and sneak up behind Envy unnoticed, partly because Envy was being obsessive. He subtly changed his arm into a knife and held Envy up.

"What are you doing?" He demanded.

"Excuse me, sir?" Envy asked.

"Oh, shut up, you're not even human." Ed snapped. "Why are you stalking my brother?"

"Excuse me?"

"Stop it, Envy, it's not funny anymore. It never was funny, but that's beside the point."

"Sir –"

"Elric…" An exasperated voice called. A nondescript person emerged from the crowd. "Leave the poor mechanic alone."

Ed remembered that it was a tool shop that he had left Al in. Which was partly why Al had stayed; he wanted a surprise for Winry. Ed let the mechanic go with a brief apology.

"Did you really think me that stupid? You have a bad habit of underestimating your enemies, boy."

Ed managed to convince himself this was not a jibe at his height. Barely. "Same question." He snapped instead. "What are you doing stalking my brother?"

A short skirmish followed in which Envy almost managed to smirk and sink into the crowd. The homunculi found Ed's knife at his throat properly this time. Ed repeated the question. Envy stalled briefly. Ed found Wrath holding a knife to _his _throat. Ed backed off. Nobody seemed to notice the use of threats and knives. Ed turned back to the tool shop, Al, and a wrench.

"Now can I have my stones?" He heard Wrath say as he left.


	3. The Private Life of Sins

**Disclaimer: **If I owned FMA, Envy in particular would have an adverse encounter with a chandelier. No further comment.

**Chapter 3**

Ever since he had called on the promise he had managed to puppy-eye from Breda – namely that he could have the keyhole next time something interesting happened in Roy's office – there had been speculation as to what the heck Fullmetal had been talking about when he stormed into said office uninvited. Fullmetal didn't _like _that office. What's more, he had been deliberately cryptic, which the office in general thought was rather mean-hearted of him.

It had, however, made Fuery popular; everyone kept coming back to ask _exactly _what Elric the Elder had said. Not that hearing it again made it any clearer, which was why they had sent Fuery to Hughes.

Fuery knocked on the door to Hughes' office and waited. Then he tried the handle. Unsurprisingly, it was open, and Hughes was not in. Everyone knew the only thing he stored in his office were astoundingly numerous albums of Elysia, which no one could _possibly _want, so he never locked his door. And he rarely spent more than five minutes a day in his office; he was too busy popping in on people. So the next step was to think where he would be least welcome but most needed at the moment. Fuery drew a blank, so he tried the mess hall.

Unsurprisingly, that, too, was vacant. Well, more or less; it was midmorning, so the people who kept Different Hours were having breakfast still. Hughes kept Regular Hours, so he could get home and play with Elysia in the evenings.

There was only one other place Hughes tended to be, so Fuery headed back toward his desk. At the last minute, he swerved and peeked through the door to Roy's office. Roy, ever glad of an interruption, looked up.

"Yes, Sergeant Fuery?"

"Just looking for Lieutenant Colonel Hughes, sir."

"Oh - right here." The way Roy smiled, Fuery _knew _that he was getting a lecture from Hughes. Still, the older man amiably got up and allowed Fuery to walk him out of the room and to the semi-privacy of Fuery's desk - people usually avoided it, but once his peers saw he had lured Hughes there, they dived.

"I need your help." Fuery told him. "We, um… gained knowledge that Edward Elric visited Roy Mustang…"

Hughes snorted. Fuery stopped to look at him. "Go on."

"The thing is, it was a really cryptic message, and not even the Colonel understood it. He said…" Fuery paused and collected himself. " 'Don't you even think of hurting my brother. Don't you dare do anything to make him unhappy, you hear me? Because if you do, what I will do to you will make the Leore incident look like a farce.'"

"You have a good memory." Hughes commented speculatively. Breda, Falman, and Havoc hushed him.

"Then Mustang said, 'Fullmetal, I have no idea what you're talking about.' So Ed said, 'Good. Good. Keep it that way - or if you can't, you'd better darnwell not do anythingto make Alphonse unhappy.' Then he left."

"Mustang had the script _transcribed _and he wasn't so detailed." Hughes murmured thoughtfully. Fuery wondered where Hughes had gotten this information. "So you want me to tell you what Edward was talking about?"

Four heads bobbed.

"I'll have to get back to you on that one. Mustang wants to tell me what the two of them were doing action-wise first, but once I've got it together, I'll tell all of you. Promise." Hughes assured them.

"And no Elysia?" A tactless Havoc confirmed.

"Well…"

"_No _Elysia." Breda demanded.

"No Elysia." Hughes reluctantly agreed. "She's just grown so much!" He protested as they shoved him back in with the Colonel.

(0.0) 

The incident could have gone better. Obviously, Elric was more observant than Envy had thought he was. He had not only noticed he was being stalked, but had hit just the person Envy had been five minutes before. Envy hadn't realized that he'd taken the form of this person; it was just another of his repertoire of boring, inconspicuous people. Envy hadn't really realized the man existed.

And Wrath _would _be such a crawling baby. This had started out being the best news Envy had ever heard. But now Wrath kept talking about stones, or else trying to get on that subject he'd been whining about for the first few months they'd been together: Mommy. Mommy this, Mommy that, let's find Mommy, I miss Mommy, Mommy wouldn't do this, Mommy wouldn't want me to do this, I want the stones but Mommy wouldn't want me to eat them, Mommy doesn't like you, why did you take me away from Mommy, I want Mommy, Mommy, Mommy, Mommy, Mommy, Mommy. Envy wanted to just stab the boy and get it over with. He had, once, and Wrath had tried not to speak to him for days, even though Envy had assured him he wouldn't have done that if Wrath were mortal.

So Envy sat, or rather, sprawled sulkily across his chair. Lust was cooking tonight - it looked like spaghetti and red stone sauce again. Lust wasn't a very good cook. Gluttony liked it, though. Still, Gluttony liked the taste of walls better than candy, and as Wrath said, this showed Gluttony had absolutely _no _taste.

"Envy?" Wrath asked.

"Yes?" Envy asked through his teeth.

"You wanna play…" The younger sin checked the box. "The game of outrageous fortune?"

"It's called Pirateer, Wrath. The big word is the title. And no, I don't."

"But I saved your life!"

"One of them. Believe me, I would have been just fine if you hadn't interfered."

"But I bet you'd have told him something. Anyway, you owe me. C'mon, it'll be fun. Greed said he'd come play, and I think I can get Sloth to, too. You know it's most fun with more players."

Envy choked. "You think you can get _Sloth _to move from her chair and play with you?" He asked incredulously.

"Will you play if I can?" Wrath asked cunningly.

The odds were infinitely in Envy's favor. He nodded, after making sure Wrath would pay him five stones if he couldn't, and watched gloatingly as the other sin crossed the room. He didn't hear what Wrath said, or see what he did - he just knew it wasn't the pointy-toothed Wrath - but, a few moments later, to Envy's considerable disbelief, Sloth oozed off the chair and pooled on the floor, ready to play. Greed quickly joined them.

"Well…" He had promised, and he'd been told to keep promises he made to other sins. It had been a painful lesson.

**A few minutes later…**

Dante entered the gathering room to brief her sins and stopped short. Envy, the most talented minion she had, sprang up from the floor and bared teeth that were currently almost as pointy as Wrath's could be.

"Booyah! Take that, Wrath! _In your face! _I've got the treasure _and _your last ship. Oh, yeah! I'm good! Woot! Woot!"


	4. Confrontation with Blueberry Syrup

**Disclaimer: **Enter angst! Here is a chapter where, finally, someone with very, very bad skills at distinguishing styles, might – _might, __**might **_**– **mistake my work for actual FMA stuff. And only that because I've finally managed to get a vague bit of angst in. Due to the melodrama and plethora of angst available throughout the actual series, I obviously don't own FMA.

Chapter 4 

There is a brief and secret meeting in which Al and Hughes meet and murmur. Fuery knocks on the door. Al does a metal equivalent of raising his eyebrows at Hughes. Fuery enters. There is much muttering, and a muffled shriek from Fuery. Shortly after, they leave, slowly and secretly. In the morning, no one is aware that anything has happened.

(0.0) 

"Eeeeeedddd." Al drew the name out very slowly and very happily. Ed croaked from the bed.

"Eeeeeeeddddd."

Several more croaks and 'g'way's later, Ed was out of bed and dressed. "Why'd you wake me up?" He demanded.

"Colonel Mustang wants to see us." Al informed him happily.

"Not again. Why can't the man shut up?" Ed growled.

"Ed!" Al protested.

"Sorry, Al. I'm just tired of going to his office so frequently." He glanced at the window. "Al, it's not even dawn yet! Not even Mustang is in his office at this hour -"

"Well, he should be." Al was suddenly sulky. "I made him. Serves him right to get up early, after that note."

"What note?" Ed was suddenly defensive and upset. It took some more coaxing (or rather, bullying), but eventually Al withdrew the note from within him and passed it to his brother.

It was not a happy note.

"Right. Roy will be in his office." Ed agreed. "I wonder if his walls would make good - "

"Don't kill him, Nii-san." Al begged. Ed just walked out the door.

(0.0) 

Roy was dozing. Paperwork made a good pillow.

"Uh… Colonel?" The door clicked softly behind someone. It wasn't Riza. Roy stirred a little.

"Colonel?" It was almost a whisper. Roy made a small grunt and wiggled a bit. Definitely not Riza. Something smelled good.

"Colonel, you need to wake up now. The Elrics are here to see you, sir." Another moan. "I brought you some coffee, sir. And a pancake. It's a really good pancake."

_Definitely _not Riza. Riza would have a hole in his wall by now.

Roy sighed and pushed himself off his desk, scattering papers to the floor. "Thank you… Fuery? What are you doing here? Why did you come?" If there was one thing Colonel Mustang did well, it was wake up coherently and quickly.

"Everyone else went to bed. They said I should stay and wait for you to leave." Fuery told him carefully.

"All right. Pass the coffee. I'll be ready in a couple minutes." The coffee came in a great wash. Fuery was left wondering how Mustang's tongue didn't get burnt. He was at work on the syrupy pancake when Ed lost his patience.

This was evidenced when the door swung brilliantly open, bounced off the wall, lost its hinges, and crashed into the wall opposite. An automail arm withdrew, and Ed stalked inside. Roy wiped the blueberry syrup off his face and scooted the pancake away.

"Al, stay in there for a minute." Ed called without turning his head. Instead, he continued his trek.

"Takes a long time to cross the floor when you're - " Roy began, but Ed didn't let him finish. He didn't go off in a nice, clean rage, either. Instead, his right arm shot out and grabbed Roy's collar. It lifted. Roy stood. That was as far as Ed could go.

"I told you not to hurt my brother." He hissed.

"I didn't do anything - "

"I _told _you!" Ed snapped. "I swear, Mustang, if you do one more -"

"Edward?" Fuery asked cautiously. "Not to interrupt… You look kinda busy… but could you explain? And maybe get him away from the syrup? That stuff takes hours to clean off once it stains." And please, please, please let go of Roy, he added mentally.

"Huh? Oh. Yeah. Right. He _would _get you to do his laundry. Little -"

"Language, brother!" Al called nervously.

Ed came around the desk, a difficult maneuver when holding Mustang, and edged away from the syrup.

"And explain?" Mustang added hopefully. He was having issues. He didn't really want to burn the little alchemist, but this wasn't precisely comfortable, either. And he'd gotten in big trouble the last time he'd done spur-of-the-moment alchemy, too; it was difficult for most people to repair burns, and Mustang usually wasn't in the mood after he'd burned something. It was difficult to think where to aim his snap.

"Take your glove off first." Ed demanded.

"Set me down." Roy replied. They eyed each other warily, and nothing changed.

"I told you not to hurt my brother. I _told _you." Ed paused. "Fuery, close the door." Fuery wondered how this was supposed to be accomplished, seeing as the door was no longer attached to the wall, and ended up propping the door against the hole in the wall it usually covered. "Good."

"I didn't get that, either." Mustang reminded him. "I didn't do anything. Didn't even tarnish his armor. Honestly, what _could _I do to Alphonse, even assuming I wanted to? He's a _suit of armor._"

"Idiot!" Ed snapped. "He has a crush on you!"

Outside the window, Envy quivered with excitement. This was where Ed got violent. He hadn't thought that Fuery would be there, and Fuery seemed to have an unfortunately calming influence, but…

Roy's face changed slowly. There were several phases, most with a great deal of surprise. "That explains a lot." He commented carefully. "But not why you're here."

Envy stopped quivering and drooped. He had been _so sure _it was going to get good and bloody, and then they started talking it out. Disappointed, he left, just before Ed flung the window open and looked around.

"He won't be out there." Roy informed him. "He's sneaky."

"Irritating, interfering, hyper, tall…" Ed paused. "He sucks."

"I'm taller, I think." Roy mused. "Yes. Definitely taller."

Ed sent a sharp glance at Roy, and quickly turned it into an appraising one when he saw the colonel watching him. "I dunno about that. Envy seems taller. Course, that could be 'cause he's being melodramatic. Or because of that hair."

"I wouldn't ask you to judge. You've grown recently, so it would be difficult to -"

"You really think I've grown?" Ed asked excitedly.

"Well, a bit. You're still knee-high to a pile of paperwork, but…" Roy didn't finish this thought. He was too busy watching Ed's face, which was happier than he had ever seen it before.

"Hawkeye gives you too much paperwork anyway." Ed replied after a moment, and turned to leave.

"Aren't you going to do something to him, brother?" Al asked, confused, as they left the building for a walk.

"Misunderstanding." Ed replied.

(0.0) 

They had been flirting. It took Ed a long, long time to realize it, because he was not used to flirting. He had never done it before. Or maybe he had. Maybe the yelling had been part of the flirting, too. It was hard to tell. But - Roy had flirted first. Roy had said Ed was growing.

The disturbing part was that Ed had flirted _back_. He hadn't meant to; it just happened. As naturally as anything could happen, he had said that Hawkeye gave Roy too much paperwork.

Except that that wasn't the _most _disturbing part. He supposed there was a hierarchy, an order to it, so he wrote it down, just to get it organized, with one being the least disturbing.

1. Flirted.

2. Flirting strange

3. Flirted with Colonel Bad Word.

4. Did not really feel bad about all this, except that

5. Colonel Bad Word was _Al's_

The last made Ed feel rather mean and miserable. Al was sweet and charming, his precious little brother, and it was just mean to take the one thing Al wanted for himself - aside from a body, of course, and Al _deserved _that, it didn't count. And even if Ed didn't take him, just liking him was infringing on Al's territory, and still mean.

But he really, really wanted to be able to like Roy.

Life without Roy was… not good. It was like life without Al: inconceivable, bad, and _wrong_. Deeply wrong. And now he thought of it, Ed wanted to have more life-with-Roy.

No, that was wrong. Sure, more life-with-Roy would be nice, but he wanted _Al _to be with Roy. There was one thing Al liked, and Ed was going to make sure he had it.

Because the evening before Al lost his body, Ed had taken the last piece of cake.

(0.0) 

"Al…" Ed whined in the middle of the night, and Al sat up.

"Yes, Nii-san?"

"Colonel Mustang hasn't called for us in _forever_."

"He called you this morning." Al commented. "Us, I mean."

"But surely, if he got a lead on Envy or something, he'd call us." Ed protested. "Or maybe he has a mission. Or make-work, even. Or maybe he would try to foist his paperwork on us."

"He'll call us tomorrow morning, maybe." Al suggested.

"You mean this morning?"

"Why did you wake me up, Ed? It's three-thirty. Haven't you slept yet?" Silence. Al was glad. He needed a moment to work out why Ed was suddenly eager to see Colonel Mustang. And then he had it.

Ed's sheets rustled in the dark. "Go to sleep, Al."


	5. Rescheduling

Disclaimer: I have a tendency to ramble. Have you noticed this? You must have, if you've gotten this far. However, in general, FMA proper does not ramble. Oh, they go on tangents, like Trisha dying, the entire Teacher episode, etc., but they never stop and contemplate the effect cookies or chocolate has on people. They never wonder why they have these names, these personalities, what they were thinking five minutes ago, whether alchemy or science will prevail in the next few centuries, what new things you could do with alchemy, multiple personalities, etc. I can't seem to avoid rambling on about such things; therefore, I can't possibly own FMA.   
Chapter 5 

"Colonel Mustang…" Fuery asked. Roy looked up.

"Hmm?"

"May I work with you for a while?"

"Mmm."

Fuery backed out and fetched his paperwork. Then he stood and contemplated the couch. Roy had recently acquired a coffee table, for unknown reasons, but it was low enough that it was truly impossible to lean over and write properly. After some time, Fuery moved the table so it was perpendicular to the couch and draped himself over the arm and along the cushioned furniture.

If he were Ed, he reflected, he'd get all upset that his toes didn't go much past the middle cushion.

"Why are you here, Fuery?" Roy asked after a while.

"Just keeping you company, sir!" Fuery chirped.

"Hawkeye sent you to make sure I wasn't slacking?" Roy guessed.

"Nope!"

They scribbled for a while. Roy, looking over his desk, was surprised to see that Fuery's handwriting was adult. For some reason, the man impressed him as childish in every way. Maybe it was his sweetness. Maybe… he didn't know. It was just surprising that he didn't write in big, messy letters.

"Fuery?"

"Hmm?"

"How old are you?"

Fuery looked up. He had to consider the question for a moment. Roy assumed he had had a birthday recently. "Old enough to be in the military." He said instead. The subject was, somehow, in a sweet and nice but absolutely ineffable way, closed.

"Roy?"

"Yes?"

"What do you do for fun?"

Roy thought about this. "There is no such thing as fun, Fuery." Fuery did not have to look up to see this was a joke. Roy's voice quivered with laughter.

"Seriously, though."

Pen-scratching pause. "I bowl." Roy said finally.

"You _bowl?_"

"I bowl. I'm very good at bowling."

Fuery figured this was probably true. Roy seemed like the sort of person who would be good at anything he decided to be good at. "Anything else?" He asked after a moment of imagining Roy bowling, going home, eating, bowling, sleeping, bowling, working, bowling.

Roy stared at Fuery until the man met his eyes. "Yes. But I'm not just going to tell you." Roy was not going to confess his musical nature or his dance of choice to Fuery. Nor anyone, really, since he wasn't really very close to anyone at all.

"Okay."

There was a short silence. Fuery later guessed that Roy had been turning the conversation over in his head, because he broke it with,

"Why did you call me Roy?"

"But you _are _Roy. Everyone knows it. You're Roy like Ed is Ed not Edward - and certainly not Fullmetal Alchemist! - Al is Al not Alphonse, Hughes is Hughes, Havoc is Havoc, Falman is Falman, Breda is Breda, and Riza Hawkeye… Riza varies. I guess she's Riza when it's personal and Hawkeye when she's telling you what to do or fighting or something. You're Roy as ineffably as I am Fuery, not Kain."

It was dizzying logic.

"It's as possible to call you Mustang…" The word was strange, "as it would be to address Fuhrer Bradley as King."

That was an ineffable truth.

"So." Fuery commented after Roy had more or less finished ogling at the idea of calling the Fuhrer King. "Whatcha think of Ed?"

"Fuery!" Mustang paused. "I mean, _Kain!_"

Fuery stuck his tongue out amiably. He would get the truth out of Mustang eventually. It wasn't so much that he wanted to know - Hughes had told him already - as that Mustang needed to hear himself say it.

(0.0) 

Envy was disgusted. They were getting along. It sucked.

Unless…

Wrath was disturbed. Envy was cackling, and _still _wouldn't let him into their room. He fetched Lust, who picked the lock with her fingers, and went to bed, though it was difficult to sleep with Envy cackling at random intervals. Honestly, did Palm Tree Head cackle in its androgynous _sleep_?

(0.0) 

The next time Roy called Ed to his office it was… difficult. This made Roy angry. If that word Al objects to Master Sergeant Kain Fuery – Roy took pleasure in using the full name _and _title – hadn't been so word Al objects to persistent on the word Al objects to subject of Edward Elric, then none of this word Al objects to would have happened.

But he had, and now Roy was stuck in the office with both Elrics, their faces turned politely toward him. Fortunately, he had a coffee cup to be nicely distracted by. Unfortunately, the coffee was almost gone, and the Elrics knew it.

Ed cleared his throat. Roy took a quick sip of coffee. Al just sat. At least he wasn't staring so intently – every so often he'd look at Ed nervously, or just stare at something else.

"Uh, Colonel?" Ed asked. There was another furtive sip of coffee. "Colonel?" The elder Elric asked more loudly. Coffee, coffee, coffee. "Colonel! What are we doing here?"

word Al strenuously objects to. The coffee was gone. Where was Fuery when you needed him?

"You've been calling us here a lot, Colonel." Ed tried. Roy suddenly discovered the marvel that was playing with a pen. "To say very little, as far as I can tell." Could the pen be dissected? Yes! Yes! It could be!

"Colonel?"

The voice was too close. Roy looked up from his pen and found it snatched away. Ed was _right there_, right beyond the desk, holding the strangely half-dissected pen.

"Please try to concentrate." Roy found that looking at the pen was rather easy. "What are we doing here?"

To be honest, Roy didn't know. He'd just found a blank spot in his schedule and… sent for the Elrics. He had no idea why. And now they were here, and they wanted a purpose, and they were bored, and the entire situation was awkward. What was Roy supposed to tell them? That they were here because he was dodging paperwork? Even that wasn't true. Riza had just about gotten him to finish it over two overnights at the office.

"Well?"

"I'm thinking!" Roy snapped. This was not a good answer.

"You don't know why you sent for us." Ed was quite pleased. This was a good sign. He caught himself being pleased for himself and quickly put an end to it. He was pleased for _Al_ – Roy was returning his affection, safe now he knew it was there. Never mind that the summons had been for _Edward Elric_.

Still, he was glad for Al. That was all. He wasn't allowed to like Roy. But because of Al, he sent Roy an encouraging smile.

"All right, then. Al, you wanna come over here? Let's see how much time we have." And Ed was rummaging through the papers, getting them all confused, but that was all right, and his good hand was rummaging, rummaging, finding nothing, getting jerky and exasperated.

"Drawer." Roy explained, opening it. He kept very little in his drawers – unlike others, who liked a neat desktop and would rather hide the mess, Roy liked everything to be in the open. If he really needed to find anything, it would be in a drawer. "An hour."

Ed frowned. "That's not much. Let's see." He took the little book from Roy and frowned at the pen. A clap later, it was in working order. He could have put it back together by hand – who knew how many hours Ed had spent taking pens apart and putting them back together? – but he wasn't in the mood right now. He wanted _time_. "Meeting with – huh? Dunno the name. Can't be important." Ed crossed the name off. Then he used alchemy on the pen again, because it wasn't red ink, and repeated the gesture.

"Meeting with… no. Lunch? Who needs it? Afterwards – paperwork? Another time." Roy began to envy Ed's planning. "Trip to the – what is this place?"

Roy snatched the book back. He hadn't realized _that _was today. "Top secret." He explained. "Only for high-ranking people. Really."

"_Montgomery's Hair Emporium?_" Ed asked with quite a bit of disbelief. Roy pulled off one of his multitudinous Gestures. Ed marked it in his memory to practice in the mirror later.

"Oh, well, I guess that means we can't cross it off." He wanted to pout. Instead, he looked over the space he'd cleared. "Four hours. We can do something with that. C'mon, Roy, bet you've never been to a cooking shop."

"Ed, not again!" Al protested quickly.

"Aw, c'mon, Al, we've four hours with Roy and I'm not going to blow it all in _one _place." Al did a mechanical version of eyebrow-raising. "Fine. Half an hour."

"Cooking shop?" Roy asked with some disbelief.

"I _need _a new cheese grater." Ed informed him. "Need. Crave. _Must have _a new cheese grater. Or better yet, one of those – ach, I've forgotten the name. You pull something, anything across them and it grates? Like a knife. Alchemy never works for these things."

"You cook?" Roy guessed.

"Naw, I have a lady friend who cooks." Ed put so much sarcasm into the statement it was barely recognizable as intelligible. "What else would I do in my spare time? And my shakes – "

"Avoid the shakes at all costs." Al advised Roy. "Come on, Ed, let's get this over with. Then we can go visit Fuery!"

"Fuery?"

"He says he has a whole _network _of pet shops." Al explained.

"And then we can go bowling." Roy defended, causing both Elrics to turn to him with some surprise.

"You bowl?" Ed asked.

"I'll teach you." Roy promised.


	6. Bowling

Disclaimer: I swear, no one in FMA has hobbies. Maybe I just missed something, which is quite possible, but no one ever seems to play, be it a sport, an instrument, or _anything_. This is a flaw. If I owned FMA, I'd fix it; I don't. 

Oh, and look. I'm rambling again.

Chapter 6 

There was an echoing noise of the ball rolling, a few bounces off the gutter rail, and then a resounding crash. The whole room echoed more in the middle of the day, when no one was about, Roy reflected as Ed bounced up and down, waving his arm and trying not to use words Al objected to.

"The ball _will not _go straight!" He screamed. "It just slides, no matter what I do!"

Roy extracted the orb from the pit it had rolled back to. "And no wonder. Look at it – see how shiny? It's a hooking ball. You need a dull ball to practice with; those will go straight better."

"But is shiny." Ed objected.

"You need a dull ball to practice with." Roy repeated, and strode off with the old ball held captive to get a new one.

"I really don't see how you do it!" Ed shouted after him. Roy didn't answer, but returned shortly with a new, much more boring-looking ball.

"Hold it – no, like this." He demonstrated. "And then let it go back first. So it can get more momentum." He grabbed Ed's arm and tugged at the fingers. Unfortunately, the fact that they were metal meant Ed had to consent and figure out what he meant first. Roy found himself bent over Ed, tugging at the arm, for considerably longer than he had meant to. It was uncomfortably close. Or it ought to have been uncomfortably close, but Roy rather enjoyed it.

"There." He disentangled himself, trying not to show it was reluctantly. Why _should _it be reluctantly? It didn't make any sense. "Now back… and drop." The ball managed not to hit a gutter rail, although it only knocked two pins down. "Better, you see?"

"You still do better." Ed objected.

"That's because I've been practicing for years." Roy informed him. "You can't beat an expert the first day you start everything. Al, you want to give it a shot?"

Al declined. He'd been sitting on a far away bench since they arrived, reading. He said the sound got in his head and stayed there for _forever_. Ed had shrugged and gone on with Roy; they'd been where Al wanted to go, they'd been where he wanted to go, and they were _going _to stay where Roy wanted to go. Al could wait.

He had to admit, it was nice having Roy to himself.

Even though Roy was _Al's _he reminded himself for the umpteenth time. It still kept coming up.

"Ready to try again?" Roy asked. "Here's your ball. No! No! I just showed you – you don't hold it like that."

Ed's fingers were malleable this time, but they kept retreating back to their old positions. Roy snapped at him once, and Ed snapped right back that it was difficult to remember how to do this – harder since the arm was automail.

That was something Roy liked about Ed – he never cowered under the force of superiority, like Roy did. No, if Fuhrer Bradley himself were to make a comment about the young alchemist's height, Roy was quite sure Ed would deliver as volatile a rant as to anyone else. It was a fault, true, but quite endearing.

"Let's try it with your _other _arm, then." Roy suggested. This hand was as least as reluctant, and it was _warm_. Roy disentangled himself as quickly as he could. It wasn't good for Ed's form, but it felt so _weird _that Roy had to get away from the boy. Sure enough, Ed tossed the ball off strangely and it bounced between the gutter rails.

"You need to – "

"Go make lunch." Ed sulked. "I'm no good at the moment. I need to cook. We can come back later." It was lunch time anyway. And cooking sounded _right_. "I want to cook lunch for you." Ed's mind raced. He always liked to have lunch ready by one. If they got back in fifteen minutes, he'd have a little over an hour to cook, which meant he'd be in a big rush…

Unlike most cooks, Ed liked being in a rush. He tended to bounce from surface to surface. Al had commented that cooking left his movements a blur – rather like when he was dodging things, actually. The fact was, Ed was chronically hyperactive, and cooking in a rush tended to take the edge off things.

This lunch had to be something difficult. Something impressive. Something very tasty. Ed liked meatloaf, but meatloaf was easy; besides, it took too long to cook. Pancakes were a breakfast food, he had no idea why they had entered his head. Popovers were simple, fast, and fillings… or a variation… a sort of pie…

Roy looked strangely at the Fullmetal Alchemist. His face was _weird_. Strangely dreamy and yet like he was going to get a sugar rush momentarily.

"Right, lezgo." Ed buzzed. The rush had arrived.

(0.0) 

Ed could cook well. Roy was _never _full, yet he sat, warm and happy and just wanting to put his feet on his desk, some hours after having eaten, and wanted to beam at everything. The food had been really good. Some sort of thing in a crust; Roy had been apprehensive. And there hadn't been much, by Roy's standards, yet he felt satisfied. Al told him that this was called 'protein' and that he wasn't eating enough of it. Ed volunteered to bring him lunches in future.

Roy resisted beaming at the other person in his office. It wasn't his usual style, for one thing, and there wasn't really any reason to smile. It just felt right. The proper response to being warm and full.

Roy dealt with the man's problem, and some other people's, and did some paperwork. Then he lounged around the office. He spent some time lining everything up so it was in the proper position, either parallel or perpendicular to everything else. Then he surveyed the position of the furniture and decided he didn't _like _parallel and perpendicular and settled down to some nice adjustments, all sorts of tasteful angles.

His subordinates could always tell when Roy had an easy day by the grating of furniture on floor that came from his office.

At last, the clock allowed Roy to leave, and he did so. He was walking home, thinking dismally of the stupidity of the parallel and perpendicular design of his apartment and the horror of getting dinner, which wouldn't do any good anyway, when he remembered lunch and decided to drop in on the Elrics.

He just _knew _their furniture arrangement wouldn't bother him.

(0.0) 

Ed raised his frying pan higher. "I'll get to it in a minute!" He bellowed at Al.

"That's what you said yesterday! And the day before! And the day before! For _weeks_. You're cleaning, and that's final!" Al shouted back at him.

The surrounding area was a wreck, Ed had to admit. "But I'm _cooking!_" He objected.

"You don't need to cook! You always end up giving it to Fuery anyway. You cook too much. There's food _everywhere_. If you would just – "

"Food?"

The argument stopped. Ed lowered the frying pan in stages, deciding not to dent Al after all. Colonel Mustang was standing in the door, looking strange in… well, in not-military clothes. Like, off duty stuff.

"Colonel? Why are you here?"

"Food." Roy repeated. There was a brief silence before he enunciated. "That fluffy pie-stuff was _good_, Elric, so I thought I'd beg dinner off you, too." He tried to make puppy eyes, but was distinctly out of practice, and Ed mentally scratched that off the list of expressions he intended to learn from Roy. Vigorously. "It sounds like you have plenty, anyway."

"He can eat the part you always try to force on me." Al suggested. "Like that lasagna. There's way too much lasagna."

Roy was unfamiliar with the word, but he soon came to associate it with the savory beauty that a combination of cheese and tomato could deliver, when mixed with noodles, and some sort of thing that gave it a nice crunch. Al identified it as celery, which almost made Roy spit the stuff across the room. Celery, as far as he knew, was one of those awful green things he'd sworn off the moment he'd joined the military and had soldiers to back him up on this.

"You have to teach me this." He mumbled at Fullmetal.

"Well… I dunno…" Ed tried. "We're both kind of busy…" He caught sight of Al's pleading face. "All right. Let's see where you are. Plan a meal."

"That fluffy-crust thing and lasagna." Roy declared promptly. Ed wrote these down and looked patiently back up at him. "Um… spaghetti?" He guessed.

"_Roy!_" Ed was scandalized."What about a vegetable?"

Now Fullmetal was calling him Roy, too. Maybe there was something to Fuery's proclamation that he was not a Mustang sort of person. "Vegetables suck." Roy declared, and explained to an increasingly horrified Ed how he had sworn off them as soon as the opportunity presented itself.

"You mean… but… you just… it can't… broccoli…" Ed stuttered. He took a deep breath. "Right. Let's start really, _really _basic. Do you know the food groups?"

Roy thought hard. "Vegetables." He decided. It was a reasonable guess, considering discussion of them had led to this subject. "Protein?" He hazarded after a moment, remembering Al's comment earlier.

Ed groaned and clutched his head.


	7. Hair Product

Disclaimer/AN: I don't have enough words left to make properly long chapters. It saddens me; however, it does allow Envy to have his own chapter, just for him, and Envy excites me. I do not know why, and unless it comes out of the Great Pairing Bowl of Doom, there is probably no _way _I'm going to write an Envy-Fuery pairing. The Envy I know would probably kill me for it, anyway; EnWin was apparently bad enough. 

But I digress. (sarcasm What, really?)

For a proper Claimer of Diss (what a handy thing to have around, something that actually _wants _all the stupid disses coming out of Sullen Brother's mouth…): I do not own FMA. I mean, _honestly! _If I owned FMA, what on earth would I be doing posting fan fiction? If I owned FMA, I would make it official stuff! And _oh_, how the characters would kill me for what I officially did to them…

Chapter 7 

Envy swiped Roy's agenda soon after the Colonel had gone to bed. The man had stayed up and made some serious changes to the thing. Envy wondered what was going on; Roy had been late getting home, too, and this was an important period. Judging by the recent state of the Colonel's hair, he needed more Product. Envy was dogging him, never very far away, but during the day Nutella had called and he'd had to answer. When he came back Roy was nowhere to be found; Envy had spent the day searching the city for him, then finally given up and lurked outside Roy's apartment to find him when he came home, all the while panicked that he'd lost Mustang at the most important time.

But Mustang had only had a tin under his arm that smelled strangely of fish, which Envy avoided as he haunted Roy's apartment until he found the agenda, buried under a stack of books and a fish tank.

"Waking up at five?" Envy was disgusted. "Six o clock cooking lesson? Something about chibi-san?" The man's handwriting was bad enough in good light without such a cryptic subject… "Appointments, appointments, appointments, get off work – another cooking lesson? And where'd his lunch stuff go?" Envy didn't need lunch, but he remembered it was rather essential for the composure of mortals.

"And _what happened to the hair product?_" He wailed.

Roy grunted from nearby. Envy eeped, hopped, and quickly darted out the window.

Right, it was really natural for King Bradley to go spying on his officers. Right. Great choice of form.

It wasn't good for climbing out of windows or darting away through the night, either.

(0.0) 

Envy felt guilty about leaving Wrath alone for extended periods of time, but this was necessary. He just _knew _that Roy would go soon. His hair was, to the trained eye, looking worse and worse. He was spending more time tending it, too, a sure sign that he was using combinations of Product, and it just didn't work as well. Envy could testify to that. Roy wasn't as good at effective use of Product as Envy was, either.

Envy tailed Roy constantly. He brought Wrath along during office hours, and the two of them sat and played whatever game Wrath had brought, but it wasn't really time. Envy was always on edge. And then afterwards Wrath would come and bug him while Roy was at the Elrics, which always took _forever _and they covered the windows so Envy didn't even know what they were doing in there. After all, with three people, it wouldn't be easy to assume a shape and get away with it.

So Envy kept tagging Roy, watching the hair get more and more frizzy, and going steadily crazy. Each evening he rummaged through Roy's agenda, usually in Winry's shape, which was good at going through the window. It tended to be the same – cooking lesson, work, cooking lesson.

Occasionally there would be a bowling appointment, but Envy knew Roy bowled, had known it for months, had gotten beaten by him several times in various shapes, and was bored. On occasion, Roy even visited one of the bowling alleys that was really a place for military people to hang out, in separate rooms, and pursue hobbies that would get them ridiculed at work, like Roy's affinity for ballroom dancing.

Roy's life was boring.

At last, there was a change. Having dyed Winry's hair black for better cover, Envy was routinely going through Roy's schedule when he came across a mention of something Roy hadn't written down in ages: lunch. Envy went back, got closer to the window in case of alarm and because it was lighter there, and worked at deciphering the handwriting.

_Lunch… with… chibi-san. _For an hour. And despite the fact that, though he used to frequent several for his meals, Roy hadn't visited a restaurant since the first night Envy had gone through his agenda, there was a name.

Chibi-san hadn't come up in the notes recently, either.

Envy flipped back through the book. The last mention of chibi-san was ages ago, too. Perhaps Roy had missed the appointment.

Maybe chibi-san was a code word for the mysterious hair product.

Envy yelped as a light flicked on and burst out the window, darting down the alley beyond.

_Really ought to be Roy when I'm doing that…_

But Envy could have no regrets. He was finally, _finally _on to something.


	8. Angst and Endings

Disclaimer: I'm getting sick of writing these. Really, really sick of them. If you hadn't realized from the seven before this, I don't own FMA. No, I'm not being entertaining this time. I'm sulking. sulks gets poked OW! Chapter 8 

"Roy, I realize you're the Flame Alchemist," Ed drawled, another expression he'd picked up from Roy, who was beginning to think he was a bad influence on the boy, "and impervious to heat, but you surely don't want to get _that _close to the pan?"

Roy reconsidered and grabbed a hot pad to handle the pan. Ed had _finally _let him start cooking, just as he had, with a great display of self control, let Ed roll a ball down the alley on his own. Possibly this was because Ed was finally running low on leftovers. The little alchemist had a gut feeling that he was cooking for two people, and Al didn't eat anymore. On occasion, Ed went further, and tried cooking for three or – and Al moaned when this occurred – ended up with a banquet for twelve.

So Roy had been permitted to glaze onions. If it weren't for that – darn – hot pad, he'd be good at it, too. And if it weren't for Al, Roy would _still _have his masterful command of the darker side of language. The prohibition seemed to be catching – first Ed, then Roy, Fuery had never cursed that Roy had heard, and now Havoc was starting to be conscious of his language. Riza had always been sparing with her expletives, but she was watching even those now. Falman and Breda seemed to have pretty healthy immune systems, at least where bad language was concerned.

Havoc's susceptibility probably had something to do with Fuery. Roy had a hunch that those two were a pair. He'd been trying to set them up for ages.(1)

And meanwhile, Ed was starting to lord things over Roy. Dangle things in his face. Taunt him. If it kept going, Roy thought exasperatedly, he would start ranting and… who knew where that would lead. _Why _must Ed pick up all his habits?

"Flame," just like Roy said Fullmetal, "it could just be me, but isn't it a bit… dry… for steam?"

Roy glared and stirred the onions.

"Flame,"

"_Would _you stop that!" Roy snapped. He hadn't lost all of his Colonel-ness, which he _used _to think was unique. "It's bad enough when you take all my expressions, but then you start using sarcasm, and calling me _Flame, _and –" He stopped.

Ed was just watching him, one eyebrow raised.

"That's _mine!_"

(0.0) 

"Nii-san…"

"Mm."

"You're having lunch with Roy. In fifteen minutes." Al just knew that would make Ed so happy. He loved being in a rush.

Ed was staring at the wall. Lying in bed, which he had pushed into a nice, dark corner, staring at the wall. He was in love with the Colonel and the Colonel was Al's. Last night had been so nice, the strange change of roles, Roy burning the onions and later murdering the carrots… Playing with the child's set of bowling pins, which Roy said was just for practice, yet which Ed was so _sure _was a comment about his height!… And then he'd gone to bed, and remembered that Roy was Al's.

"Maybe I'll skip."

Al was concerned. "Why?"

"You go."

"I don't want to."

"He's your crush." Ed reminded him sullenly. "You go. Tell him I'm sick. And Winry's watching me."

"I'm not going to lie for you. Or _to _you, anymore. Ed, I don't really like Mustang. I mean, I like him pretty well, particularly since you like him, but brother, not that _way_."

"Huh?" Ed asked despondently.

Al had a revelation. "It's not about the waste of prime carrots after all! You're getting all sulky emo because you like Roy and you think you can't have him because I liked him first."

"Yeah." Ed admitted. "But really, Al, it's okay, you can have him, I'll be fine –"

"I don't _want _him."

"You don't have to do that for me, you should be happy too, it's my fault you're in that body and –"

How did _that _get in there? Al wondered. "Ed. I don't like him that way. He's kind of annoying, actually. I mean – really, Ed – I don't mind, since you like him, I like him too, but you have ba – I mean, _not _that way. Really. You can have Roy. I really, really don't want him."

"Yes you do."

"Nii-san – brother – Edward. Listen. You don't understand. There is no way, on God's green earth, that the Devil himself, could persuade me to enter a relationship with That Thi – Roy."

The Edward caught his attention. And Al _meant _it. And Ed really, really _wanted _him to mean it.

"Really?" Ed asked hopefully.

"Really. And you only have thirteen and a half minutes."

Ed was already out the door.

(0.0) 

Wrath pounded on the bathroom door. "En-_vy!_ What are you _doing _in there?" Aside from flooding the world…

The only answer was a cackle.

Montgomery's Hair Emporium, Envy thought smugly. Montgomery's Hair Emporium.

It would take ages to get the other, far inferior gunk out of his hair. But when he did…

Envy first ran his lathered hands through his long, luscious black-green hair at about the same time that Ed and Roy kissed.

(0.0) (0.0) (0.0) 

_(1) Fuery's Closet. Yes, shameless linking to force the poor reader to more effort. You'll have to wait for the evil cackle, though, it cracked and won't be fixed for another week._


End file.
